Rose, what is become of thy delicate hue?
And where is the violet's beautiful blue?
Does aught read more

Rose, what is become of thy delicate hue?
And where is the violet's beautiful blue?
Does aught of its sweetness the blossom beguile?
That meadow, those daisies, why do they not smile?

The earth laughs in flowers.

The earth laughs in flowers.

Gather the flowers, but spare the buds.

Gather the flowers, but spare the buds.

If we plant a flower or a shrub and water it daily it will grow so tall that in time read more

If we plant a flower or a shrub and water it daily it will grow so tall that in time we shall need a spade and a hoe to uproot it. It is just so, I think, when we commit a fault, however small, each day, and do not cure ourselves of it.

Art is the unceasing effort to compete with the beauty of flowers - and never succeeding.

Art is the unceasing effort to compete with the beauty of flowers - and never succeeding.

I have loved flowers that fade,
Within those magic tents
Rich hues have marriage made
read more

I have loved flowers that fade,
Within those magic tents
Rich hues have marriage made
With sweet unmemoried scents.

I hate flowers -- I paint them because they're cheaper than models and they don't move.

I hate flowers -- I paint them because they're cheaper than models and they don't move.

Little things seem nothing, but they give peace, like those meadow flowers which individually seem odorless but all together perfume read more

Little things seem nothing, but they give peace, like those meadow flowers which individually seem odorless but all together perfume the air.

And lilies are still lilies, pulled
By smutty hands, though spotted from their white.

And lilies are still lilies, pulled
By smutty hands, though spotted from their white.